


zenith

by burlesquecomposer



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fix-It, I'm sad and gay, M/M, Post Season 6, Reunions, Spoilers for Season 7 which didn't happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 20:55:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15648777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burlesquecomposer/pseuds/burlesquecomposer
Summary: The Holts said Shiro is alive. Adam knows he has a tendency to think the worst, so he holds his breath, aware of the threat of drowning—of losing Shiro twice. So when the Garrison calls him and his fleet to action, to fend off the sudden alien threat, he finds himself hesitating as he zips up his suit.What if Shiro’s not really alive?What if he is?Post season 6, takes place during the better season 7 in my head.





	zenith

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sad and gay and felt like fixing a few things. Also a small character study for Adam, who in this fic is desi as inspired by twitter@biconiclance.

The Holts said Shiro is alive. Adam knows he has a tendency to think the worst, so he holds his breath, aware of the threat of drowning—of losing Shiro twice. So when the Garrison calls him and his fleet to action, to fend off the sudden alien threat, he finds himself hesitating as he zips up his suit.

_What if Shiro’s not really alive?_

_What if he is?_

Adam worries for his own life, as well. To think that he could die on this mission while Shiro’s still out there, missing him entirely after all this time… Maybe it really was never meant to be. Maybe there’s a reason the stars that once brought them together would only ever continue to tear them apart.

Adam slaps his cheeks with his palms. He can’t think like that. Mission first. Love later. That’s how Shiro would do it…

Though he knows there’s no use dwelling on the past, though he knows his last words to Shiro were somewhat selfish but said with love all the same, the wounds still ring deep within him. He’s hurt and sorry all at once, and the two emotions don’t get along in his stomach. He’d only ever wanted to protect Shiro—from what, he couldn’t have ever guessed.

Love makes you do crazy things. Maybe responsibility does, too. And maybe, in a way, Shiro got used to being alone. Maybe that hurt. _No, it did._ But if Shiro’s alive—if _Keith_ is alive, the boy certainly has enough tenacity—he only has more to fight for.

Adam zips the suit all the way up to his neck, hating the way it prods his throat. He goes. Despite his best efforts, he can think of little else but Shiro. His lungs ache as he holds his breath, waiting for the final burst of air to free him from anxious agony.

On their way out to the hangar, Adam and his fleet are surrounded. Huge, purple-and-gray beings covered in armor, claws sharp around their guns, they might even be robots—they stare down a small gathering of humans who’ve no idea what they’re getting into. One of them speaks, and it’s hard to make out, but the threat is clear.

His own general’s voice growls in Adam’s earpiece. _Do not back down. Take them in the fight._ Adam trembles, but he raises his own gun along with his compatriots. His blood rushes in his ears. Time seems to slow, a feather falling on the moon.

These aliens, the Galra have been conquering the universe for thousands of years, according to their intel—how on Earth can humans stand up to them? Then it dawns on Adam. They are the front lines, meant to assess the threat level of the enemy. Humanity believes this is war. The Galra see it as an extermination. There’s no question that they will die here.

In a flash of a moment, Adam thinks of home. Home is the dry warmth of a cookfire that brings his cold hands back to life. Home is a cool night under the stars, grass or roof tile beneath his palms, knuckles lit only by starshine and a soft, glowing crescent. Home is a thumb at his wrist, gentle, gathering his pulse at the fingertips of his love. Home is the growing strength of his little sister’s arms around his neck as she gets heavier and harder to carry. Home is the proud gaze of a mother who melts his heart with a look, the touch at his shoulder of a father who just barely keeps it together when he leaves to join the fleet. Home is the acceptance he received from his family when he brought Shiro home for the first time, hearts pounding in their clasped hands, fear crawling up in his throat, his own nervousness eclipsing Shiro’s persistent optimism, a block of ice only melted when his parents and sister embraced them both and his mother chided them for being late to dinner and he eventually felt free to sink against Shiro’s shoulder, Adam emotionally exhausted, Shiro in a food coma. Home is the kiss that Shiro daringly placed against Adam’s temple, the reassurance that they were okay. Despite what came their way, their hearts were beating.

Adam wonders if he’ll see Shiro after he dies.

A bright flash of light has Adam shutting his eyes. He holds his breath. But when nothing comes, when he feels his body intact and unharmed, he dares to peek them open. The enemy soldier before him has an arm bursting through its chest, and with a whirring sound, the arm retreats; the soldier goes down. The figure, a stranger in black-and-white armor, whips through the soldiers with brutal strength, and soon enough, a few others in matching color-coded armor join in. Their weapons are bright, made of some kind of magic Adam can’t quite mentally grasp—the blue one is firing a gun, but a moment later he has a freaking sword, and the red one has an even larger sword that cuts through each soldier with ease. Adam’s glasses slide down his nose, and he and his team take a few steps back to assess the new situation—of alien soldiers scattered across the floor.

“Is everyone okay?” the red one says, sounding awfully young, rough, sort of familiar. There are a few nods from Adam’s team.

Adam’s gun stays in his hands, half-held at his waist. His grip on it hurts. He was seconds from death, had been ready to accept it, and yet… he has unfinished business. He has people to protect and serve. He can’t afford to lose sight of what’s important.

One of the robo-soldiers stutters and pushes itself up, gun in hand and ready to make a final attempt. The blue one calls out to the black one who’s in the crossfire—“Shiro!”

Adam fires once, and the thing goes down.

A moment of silence chills the air. The black one turns to him, helmet visor shielding his face. “Thank you,” he says in a voice Adam has longed to hear again, one that has haunted his dreams and his nightmares alike, both in its presence and its absence. And before he can say any more, Adam holsters his weapon and tugs off his helmet.

“Shiro?”

The man freezes for what feels like an eternity.

“Adam?”

And its his name, spoken in the voice he’s missed for so long, that breaks him. His heart hurts, close to bursting, ready to fly out of his chest and bring Shiro closer. Luckily, it doesn’t have to, as Shiro begins to cross the distance between them and remove his helmet to reveal a great beaming smile on his face. He’s certainly changed—silver hair, a scar halving his nose, some kind of weird tech going on with his right arm—but he’s still Shiro. Still the same, selfless, dutiful, heroic idiot he’s always loved.

Adam’s breath shudders, and he loses the fight against his own body. His arms fly around Shiro and hold him tight, promising never to let go of him. “When Sam told me you were still alive I didn’t believe it,” he chokes out. “I told you not to go out there, and look what happened. I love you. God, I love you. What were you doing all the way out there? You could’ve died.”

“Actually, I—” Shiro starts, but the red one hits his arm. Shiro switches gears. “Sorry. Adam, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Adam says. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“No, I should tell you now. I’m sorry. You’re important, you’re more than important,” Shiro pleads. “When things got dark and uncertain, I kept going because I wanted to come home to you.”

“That’s so cheesy.”

“It’s true.”

The blue one seems focused on getting the rest of Adam’s team down a new path to the hangar so they can get to their ships. Adam nudges his glasses away so he can wipe his eyes. “You’re staying, right?”

Shiro laughs a little, and his eyes crinkle in that way Adam loves. “Yeah, far as I know, I’m sticking to one planet.”

“Good.” Adam stares at him over his glasses. “You’ve put me through a lot of trouble, you know. Now we’ve got to start all over again. First date, milestones, you have to meet my parents and I can’t believe you’d put me through that again…”

“Okay, okay,” Shiro concedes, but he can’t stop smiling.

A few dull explosive sounds cause the building to shake. “They’re coming. We’ve got to go,” the red one says. Now that he’s closer, it finally clicks.

“Keith?!”

“Hey,” Keith says, warmer.

Adam shoots a glare at Shiro. “You brought Keith into space too? The hell is wrong with you?”

“It was my choice!” Keith retorts.

Shiro makes a face. “It was circumstantial. Maybe now isn’t the time…”

The building shakes again, and Adam regains his footing.

“We’re having a talk when this is all over,” he asserts with a look between the two of them. “You, Keith, me, _and_ my parents. What a nightmare. I can’t believe you’re making me drag them into this.”

Shiro smiles and has the nerve to say, “I’d love that.” He gives Adam a well-deserved kiss, one that softens him to his core, lets him know that it will all be okay. If Shiro could get by, so can he, and so can humanity.

As Adam climbs into his craft, the nerves beginning to creep up his neck again, Shiro stops him just before he shuts the last door.

“Adam.”

“Yeah?”

Shiro stares at him for an indulgent moment, like he’s mapping out Adam’s face to memorize it all over again. He sighs and smiles, taking his hand, and repeats the last words Adam managed to say to him before he left years ago.

“Go. Be great.”

When the world quiets down, Adam’s first move is to take Shiro to a loud party, of course. Keith tags along, playing with the kids, keeping them entertained with stories. Adam’s family missed them but especially Shiro, almost more than they missed their own son. They greet him with hugs and kisses and the insistence of food. Practiced, Shiro takes this all in stride, sliding back into the family as if he never left.

Mom says Adam looks happier than he has in at least a year. Adam is inclined to agree.

When it gets darker and the sun has gone down, they get a moment alone, away from all the commotion and into a quiet corridor of Adam’s parents’ house. Shiro’s breath smells sweet as he puts his forehead right up against Adam’s, pushing up their bangs and knocking their noses together. Adam doesn’t quite like the silver hair yet, but he’s getting used to it.

Shiro tugs on Adam’s fingertips until they’re holding hands and presses his head against Adam’s like he’s clearing his mind. Adam clears his mind, too, for a moment thinks of only this. Home, as it should be. Where heat always chases the cold away, where his family is together, where the stars are down on Earth, blinking bright and just for them. Where the warmth of their hands makes him all the more aware of the ring on his finger.

They’re okay.

Despite what came their way, their hearts are beating.


End file.
